"Letting go" by Gloria Anzaldúa

“Letting go” by Gloria Anzaldúa

“It’s not enough
deciding to open.

You must plunge your fingers
into your navel, with your two hands
split open,
spill out the lizards and horned toads
the orchids and the sunflowers,
turn the maze inside out.
Shake it.

Yet, you don’t quite empty.
Maybe a green phlegm
hides in your cough.
You may not even know
that it’s there until a knot
grows in your throat
and turns into a frog.

It tickles a secret smile
on your palate
full of tiny orgasms.

But sooner or later
it reveals itself.
The green frog indiscreetly croaks.
Everyone looks up.

It’s not enough
opening once.
Again you must plunge your fingers
into your navel, with your two hands
rip open,
drop out dead rats and cockroaches
spring rain, young ears of corn.
Turn the maze inside out.
Shake it.

This time you must let go.
Meet the dragon’s open face
and let the terror swallow you.
-You dissolve in its saliva
-no one recognizes you as a puddle
-no one misses you
-you aren’t even remembered
and the maze isn’t even
of your own making.

You’ve crossed over.
And all around you space.
Alone. With nothingness.

Nobody’s going to save you.
No one’s going to cut you down,
cut the thorns thick around you.
No one’s going to stom
the castle walls nor
kiss awake your birth,
climb down your hair,
nor mouth you
on the white steed.

There is no one who
will feed the yearning.
Face it. You will have
to do, do it yourself.
And all around you a vast terrain.
Alone. With night.
Darkness you must befriend if
you want to sleep nights.

———”